


Is He Walking His Own Green Mile ?

by NZFandomPrincess96



Category: Dead or Alive (Band), The Green Mile (1999)
Genre: America, Death, M/M, Miracles, Music Videos - Freeform, New Millennium, OC's - Freeform, Paul Rudd - Freeform, Plot Twist, a bunch of other characters - Freeform, mouse - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:48:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23956387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NZFandomPrincess96/pseuds/NZFandomPrincess96
Summary: Extreme AU. In order to celebrate the new millennium, and because they thought it a good idea , British pop band Dead Or Alive head to Louisiana in order to make new videos for some of their more popular songs . While having a break, Steve overhears Pete and another guy talking about murdering a man and his son . Later on, Pete gets arrested for murder , but is he responsible for it? Or is this a horrible misunderstanding ?
Relationships: Pete Burns/Steve Coy
Comments: 10
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

The Beginning Of It All

July, 21st, 2000, Louisiana , USA

Dark, unnaturally blue eyes regarded the wallpaper in complete and utter revoltion. "Urgh, whoever chose this wallpaper ought to have been sacked for even suggesting that it was the colour for the room," Pete Jozzeppi Burns said in a tone that was rather disdainful. The rest of his band looked around at the walls themselves. The walls in question were covered in paper of a light beige colour , which, whilst far from being the nicest, was hardly cause for their front man's disdainful remark.

His closest friend, lover, and the bands drummer, Stephen Coy, brushed some of his long red hair out of his face with his hand, and asked, "What's wrong with it, in your opinion ,Pete?" Pete turned , and his top lip curled . "It's the colour of chunder in a blender, that's what's wrong with it," he said, and Tim Lever, the keyboardist, blanched slightly. "Blech, that's disgusting, Pete."

He nodded. "Yeah, but also true."

"Well, so the wallpaper is horrendous, what else is horrible , I wonder?" Mike Percy, the bassist wondered aloud, as they all headed off to look round the hotel rooms they had. Well, the wallpaper was the same ghastly beige everywhere, the bathrooms were a horrid shade of pea soup, and the curtains were a ghastly shade of yellow. As Pete and Steve wandered into their hotel bedroom, however, a smile lit up Pete's face. "At least the bedspreads, carpet, and curtains are much better coloured in here," he said, breathing a sigh of relief. 

Steve wasn't entirely sure if he agreed, but at least Pete was happy about something in the hotel's décor. The floor had sheer black carpet, and both the bedspreads and curtains were emerald green, which had been his favourite colour for years. 

"Yeah, and we aren't going to be in here all the time , either." This was true, as they were in America for four and a half weeks in order to re-release new videos for some of their biggest songs that people liked. They were going to start filming in four days time, starting with "Brand New Lover," and ending up ten days later with "You Spin Me Round (Like A Record.)" The rest of their time in the States was going to be a sightseeing holiday, with not much bothering from the press. They were going to spend their last week exploring New York City. 

**~~~~~**

**August, 2nd.**

With nine music videos done, which included "Something In My House," (in which everyone laughed as Pete spat out several pieces of fruit in disgust) , "Brand New Lover," (which was even more Western than the older version had been), and "My Heart Goes Bang," (which included more extreme outfits than the original), Pete gave a slight groan as Steve woke him up by leaning towards his bed and lightly poked his face with one of his drumsticks. Cool blue eyes regarded him sleepily.

"Come on, Pete. Our last day of filming, and then we can relax." He said happily. "My wrists are quite stiff after playing for nine days straight. I for one am looking forward to a good break."

"Hmm," was the only response that Pete gave him.

"Something wrong ?" Steve asked .

"I'm already sick to death of "Spin Me." Honestly, it's the only song people seem to want to hear, and don't give a fuck about any of the others that we've done." Pete groused out.

"Well, it won't be quite the same as it was when we first did it in 1990." ( **It's an AU, remember that )**

"True," Pete agreed, before finally getting up, and heading for the bathroom, whilst Steve flicked the TV on and listened to an interview with a man who'd had so much plastic surgery done that he now resembled a woman. Seeing the before and after pictures, he sighed. "What a shame. He was a good looking guy," but then he smiled. "But at least other good looking and androgynous men haven't changed their appearance, like Pete," he said to himself, which was overheard. 

"I have had my nose changed a couple of times, as I never seem to like it," he confessed. Steve smiled. "At least it is just your nose, and not your whole face, like that guy," he pointed. Pete looked, and cringed. "I would never do that to my face. I like mine." 

A couple of hours later, with Pete now in sheer black, much like in "That's The Way I Like It," and his black hair teased and permed, they were ready to meet the two new people who were helping out with this particular video. One guy was helping out in the food department, and he went by the name of Paul Rudd. He was polite enough, and managed to contain his excitement for meeting his favourite singer. 

"Good luck with the shoot, and can I have an autograph if that's ok with you, Mr. Burns?" This simple question caused everyone in the band to laugh, including Pete. "Of course you can have an autograph from us, mate, and you can call me Pete," he chuckled as he scrawled his autograph on a piece of paper , followed by Steve, Tim, and Mike.

"Thanks," Paul said happily, as he sauntered towards the kitchen in order to prepare snacks and drinks for the band, knowing that they would need it. The other guy was the producer for the video , and when Pete saw him, he eagerly shook him by the hand, causing the others to look confused .

"This is an old friend of mine from school, Regan Jozzeppi Blackburne, and yes, my mother gave me his middle name as my middle name because she found it unique," he explained , just before they went off to film.

After finishing, the band all went off to various places around the studio. Pete had gone off with Regan, Tim and Mike had gone to have a shower, and Steve and Paul were killing time in the kitchen. Steve had been thoroughly amused to see the younger man dancing away to "Spin Me" when he had first walked in, but was impressed when he realised that the moves were almost spot on with the original ones.

"Very impressive," he laughed as he waved a makeshift flag behind him. "Pete would love this ."

  
Paul raised an eyebrow and asked, "Really ?"  
"I believe so," Steve assured him, and with another smile, he headed off to find the frontman. After asking Tim when they came across one another, who said he had seen him with Joe, he headed towards one the spare rooms for storing spare equipment, and smiled when he heard Pete and Regan.

However, the smile slid right off of his face when he heard the last thing he expected to hear coming from Pete.

"I'm going to kill him," said Pete, and Steve's jaw dropped. "No, actually, I'm going to kill him and his son," and Steve had to sit down quickly, because otherwise he would have collapsed.

"How are you going to kill the father ?" Asked Regan.

"Oh, I'll push him off a cliff or something."

"And his son ?"

"With a herd of wild cattle ."

Steve sat there as they plotted murder, before moving away, wondering all the while, 'Is my best friend really a murderer ?'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm aware that Pete's actual eye colour is brown, but wearing contact lenses is cool, and blue just sounded cooler.


	2. First Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Steve recalls the very first time he met Pete Burns, and learns of his worst day ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This does contain mentions of rape, so just be warned here.

First Meeting

 _ **Previously**_ :

 _ **Steve sat there as they plotted murder, before moving away, wondering all the while, 'Is my best friend really a murderer**_?'

There was not much that had happened in Steve's 31 years of life so far that shocked him as much as what he'd just overheard between Pete and Regan. The former had never mentioned Regan as far as Steve could recall, so he had no idea what the man did for a living, apart from producing music videos.

'It's got to be some kind of mistake. Pete would surely never fatally harm someone. If he did, then I am a very poor judge of his character.' Steve smiled to himself, before happening to glance down and noticed a stray strand of gold ribbon tucked into his shirt.

Pulling out the offending item, he said to himself, "I'll just go and ask him what he and Joe were talking about," and he headed off towards the same room in order to put his mind at rest.

However, this was easier said than done, as they were no longer where he'd last heard them. He wandered around, completely at ease, and soon came across Mike Percy, who was now much fresher looking.

"That shower is absolutely gorgeous, Steve. You ought to freshen up before you go," he suggested, and the drummer nodded, his vibrant red hair spilling into his face.

"Thanks, Mike, but have you seen Pete anywhere? There is something very important that I need to ask him."

The bassist raised an eyebrow. "I thought you were going to ask him next week, or have you changed your mind?"

"No, I'm still asking him that question next week, but this is something that's just come up. Have you seen him ?" Steve asked, sounding slightly desperate. Mike shook his head, and said in a tone laced with concern, "Are you sure that you're alright ? We're band mates, and you can always tell us if something is bothering you."

Steve smiled. "It'll be fine. If you see him, do let him know that I'm looking for him," he said, brushing his hair back with his hand, before going to grab a shower. Mike eyed the drummer's retreating figure with some concern, before heading off to the kitchen for a coffee. He rather enjoyed the sharp tang of the bitter beverage.

Meanwhile, Pete and Regan were now busy watching the playback of all ten music videos in the producing studio, along with Tim, the keyboardist. They laughed in places, and rolled their eyes in others.

"I think our fans are going to be delighted with the new videos," Pete said with a massive grin on his face.

"Yeah, and also the release of our newest album," Mike said just as cheerfully.

"Oh? What's it called?" Regan asked with interest, and Pete shook his head. "You will find out next month, Regan, along with the rest of the pop-loving world," he said, chuckling as he watched himself spitting out pieces of fruit in the video for "Something In My House."

Meanwhile, Steve was thoroughly enjoying the harsh, almost massaging strength of the mild water hitting him all over. It was a glorious sensation, as was having a 'really good time' with Pete almost every night after bidding the other two a pleasant evening. There was another reason why he sincerely hoped that Pete wasn't a murderer, and that was because the two of them were lovers. Ever since they had met some twelve years previous, under circumstances that had both of them completely terrified out of their wits, they had really hit it off. Tim and Mike knew, and possibly some very observant fans, but no one else.

Suddenly, Steve's mind took him back those twelve years, recalling the day, he was sure at the time, that he was most likely going to die, which always sucks, but even more so on one's nineteenth birthday.

_'In the adult world, one does not usually get the day off on their birthday,' Steve thought to himself as he unpacked a box filled with new drumsticks. It had always been Steve's biggest dream to play the drums in a band, and he enjoyed all kinds of music , so a band looking for a drummer would certainly be just fine with him._

_Just then, a fair-haired man by the name of Robert walked in, scowling._

_" That arse hole," he muttered under his breath, but Steve heard him. " Robert, if one of the workers at "Probe Records" bothers you so much, why don't you just not go there? There are other record shops around." Steve told him in a sensible tone._

_" If only it was that easy. But "Probe Records" is said to be by many, the best record shop around." Robert whined, causing Steve to chuckle._

_" You know, I hear that the price of "Music from The Edge of Heaven " is lower than usual. I'll go and buy it. " Said Steve._

_" Good luck with that, Steven, because Pete Burns is a ruthless man, and although it's got nothing to do with the price of fish, he's androgynous as well." Said Robert and Steve chuckled to himself as he headed off for a break._

_Approaching the record shop, that a number of people were cautious about going in if Pete Burns was working there at the time, Steve took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and strode inside. It was a nice big shop, and thousands upon thousands of records lay in waiting, waiting for someone to buy them and take them home._

_Much to his pleasure, Probe Records was sorted by category of music, and as Wham! was a pop band, he headed off in that direction, looking around for anyone who looked like they could be this Pete Burns. He soon found the Wham! album he was looking for, and was making his way towards the counter to pay, when the door to the shop burst open, causing him to nearly drop the record._

_" Hey! What do you think you're doing?" A strong voice yelled from the direction of the counter, and Steve turned to find himself looking into the somewhat feminine face of a man with a massive black perm._

_"Nothing," said Steve and unaturally blue eyes regarded him in slight disdain. " Not you. I'm talking about the men behind you. " He said with a thick Scouse accent._

_Steve turned, and then wished he hadn't. He was looking down the barrel of an air rifle. "Is that normal for here?" Asked Steve, as he felt something latch onto his arm._

_"Don't worry. It's not most of you we're after. Just this arse who makes everyone's day a complete and utter nightmare," said the man holding the gun._

_The man beside Steve blinked, and said, "Hang on a minute. This is everything to do with what happened when I was fourteen, isn't it? "_

_" Yeah, I never let a person live for long, and by ending your life, it guarantees that your greatest fear is taken to your grave, Peter Jozzeppi Burns," the man smirked._

_Pete swallowed hard. Never did he think that his past would come back to haunt him, and to finish him off properly. He shuddered as memories of the worst day in his life flashed in his brain. He remembered struggling to get away, and high and cold laughter rang through his ears as a hand gripped his cock, stripping his virginity away as a tongue nearly gagged him to death. He had managed to get away, but the horrors of that day still scared him shitless._

_He was feeling just the same way right at that moment, but the red head beside him seemed to make him feel a bit calmer, and he stared at him._

_"Sorry about all this, and that is a good album. I rather enjoyed listening to Wham! myself. "_

_"It sounds as if you have given up, " the taller man said. He was maybe just under half a foot taller than Pete himself._

_"I suppose I have. He's quite adamant about doing the crime he came in here to do. He raped me when I was fourteen years old," he said, and Steve's mouth fell open in horror ._

_" Oh, nice one , Pete. Now your friend here will have to die as well, " said the man, and pulled Steve away from Pete. As he did so, Steve had a bit of an idea, and by pinching himself, he caused his eyes to water._

_"Please, I am nineteen years old. It's my birthday, I've never had a girlfriend, and before I die, I want to feel that euphoric feeling that most people do when they have sex, " he blurted out._

_Everyone in the vicinity stared at him. "Really? You've never had sex before? " Asked Pete and Steve nodded._ "Yeah, never. " Said Steve, and Pete looked so deeply into his eyes that Steve felt as if he was staring right into his soul. Steve had to blink, because that gaze was utterly mesmerising. 

_"Well, if we are both going to die, then I would want to do the same with someone who isn't causing me harm," said Pete. Turning to look at the man holding the gun, he said, "Will you let me die happy, John?"_

_The man named John blanched slightly, but nodded. " You have two minutes. Enjoy. "_

_Pete opened up his arms, and Steve immediately fell into his embrace, before placing his lips on Pete's, and one hand on his groin, stroking that area for all he was worth. Pete would have been enjoying himself more if he knew that he wasn't going to die. He let out a lust filled moan, that sounded incredibly feminine for a man. They were about half way through their allocated time, when the door burst open again, this time bringing forth the police._

_Pete immediately pulled away from Steve, having reached one heck of a climax while having his most private area stroked by a loving hand. The police made quick work of the three arrests, and asked Pete if he was going to press charges against them._

_He nodded, and pointed a black nail-polished index finger at the man called John. " Yes, and especially him. He fucked me without consent when I was fourteen years old, " he snarled, and with that_ , Steve's mind pulled him back to the present.

Steve smiled to himself. As soon as he found Pete, he was going to put the misunderstanding behind him, and never think of it again.

However, this was easier said than done, because even after the gorgeous shower, Steve had as much luck finding Pete, as a person finds a needle in a massive haystack. In fact, the latter would have had more luck than the former, because Pete, Regan, and Mike had already left. Tim was kind enough to give Steve a lift back to their hotel.


	3. I Hope You Both Rot In Hell

I Hope You Both Rot In Hell

**AN: Here's where things get interesting. Right, trigger warnings first. Horrible slurs towards a woman, a description of a bar fight, rape, and somewhat graphic descriptions of injuries.**

_Previously :_

_However, this was easier said than done, because even after the gorgeous shower, Steve had as much luck finding Pete, as a person finds a needle in a massive haystack. In fact, the latter would have had more luck than the former, because Pete, Regan, and Mike had already left. Tim was kind enough to give Steve a lift back to their hotel_.

As they rode along, Tim kept glancing at the drummer, as he'd been even more quieter than was considered usual. He was a shy, quiet person by nature, but he'd normally say _something,_ especially after the past nine days when they'd been making new music videos with an up-to-date theme.

"Is everything alright, Stephen?" He asked lightly, and he nodded.

"Yeah, fine. I just really need to talk to Pete about something extremely important, and no, it's not what I'm going to ask him next week, either. Just something I overheard him talking about with Regan in the studio. " He sighed, and then added, "I don't suppose you know what Regan Blackburn does for a living, do you?"

Tim shook his head lightly and smiled. "Afraid I don't, but I'm sure that everything is fine." He said in a tone that he hoped sounded reassuring. Steve nodded, fairly confident that his lover wasn't a killer. He couldn't even imagine such a thing, and figured that what Pete and Regan had been talking about had a perfectly reasonable explanation behind it.

However, within minutes of arriving back at their not so nicely decorated hotel room, Steve found himself grinding his teeth together, which made a cringe-worthy sound. There was no sign of either Pete or Regan, and Mike informed them that Regan had taken Pete to an American bar for dinner. This caused Steve to grind his teeth in the first place, making that horrid sound.

"If he's trying to take Pete away from me, I shall be seriously pissed off. I need to talk to him and put my mind at rest, but with the two of them disappearing, I can't," said Steve, now sounding somewhat distressed, causing the other two to look at him in concern.

"What's wrong?" Asked Tim, and Steve shook his head. "Oh, it's completely messed up, and maybe I just imagined it, but I think Regan is a serial killer, and he's roped Pete into helping him with his next one."

There was an uneasy silence in the room at his words. Tumbleweeds could have gone spinning by, before Tim and Mike broke the silence by bursting out laughing. Mike regained his composure first, and said, "Stephen, although I can imagine Pete Burns in a bar fight for self defense, I doubt that he would ever fatally injure someone. Go and have a lie down, mate. We're all exhausted, and you probably did imagine it," he said, and shooed him away.

Maybe my mind is playing tricks on me, Steve thought. I mean, sure, Pete's got an incredibly acidic tongue on him at the best of times, but the very idea of him being a murderer is highly unlikely. He smiled as he pulled off his dark blue tank top, and eyed the beautiful red heart tattoo on his right arm with the black initials of P.J.B. inside. Pete had a matching one with the initials S.E.C. as Steve's middle name was Eric.

Smiling happily, he pushed the two beds together and then lay down, his body relaxing in the middle of the two as he drifted into an easy sleep.

Meanwhile, Regan had taken his old school friend to a rather upmarket bar called Black Commercial Stables. It was named that because the family who owned it were avid horse riders, and the name stuck.

Now clad in a sheer lilac top, sheer black pants, and black cowboy boots, Pete strode in, with Regan, who was wearing a white t-shirt, faded blue jeans, and black converse shoes, smiling behind him as a fair-haired waitress gave them both a warm smile.

"Hello, Regan," she said happily. "Looking forward to being back in New York, and doing your job again?" Regan just smiled in return. "My dear Lucy, I love my job so much that I don't really call it work. It's a fantastic job, and I love it. Sure, the climate is boiling, but you do get used to it. Now, could you please find us a table?"

"Of course," Lucy smiled, and found them a table close to the bar, with a couple in their forties beside them.

 **PAGE** **BREAK**

The setting sun turned the Louisiana sky to a lovely shade of a dusty rose pink, with smatterings of blue and the impending black that would eventually swallow all other colours in its path. Pete let out a sigh of contentment when he happened to glance up from a plate of the best steak he'd ever eaten and see.

"How utterly beautiful," he said, and Regan raised an eyebrow. "Who's utterly beautiful, mate?" He asked, taking a sip of the black coffee they had both ordered from his cup.

"Not who. What," the singer smiled. "The setting sun has made the sky utterly beautiful."

Smiling, Regan said, "You do learn to appreciate the beauty in simple things. "

"And ones lovers," Pete grinned, observing a sweet kiss between the couple at the next table. "I have found my special someone, Regan. What about you?"

Regan shook his head, but smiled. "Are you two married?"

Pete sighed. "If only, but a marriage between us would be illegal. I am in love with another man," he was fine telling Regan all of this because Regan had never had a problem with the way people swing.

"Ah, like another friend of mine. Good for you, Pete. I can only wish the two of you all the best."

"Steve would like that," smiled Pete, and showed Regan the heart tattoo with Steve's initials. Regan smiled and then the two ordered a baked apple crumble for the two of them to share. However, while enjoying their desert, the conversation at the next table wasn't nearly as sweet.

"Isabella, you look like a whore dressed like that," a man's voice came to Pete's ears, and he and Regan turned to see a blonde-haired business man berating the brunette woman he was with. She was wearing a navy blue cocktail dress, and a pair of tights and black heels sat neatly by her feet.

She turned pink. "It's hot in here, and my skin needs to breathe, Richard. There's nothing wrong with that."

"Well, with that bare skin, you'll turn men on, and then things will not go well. Also, you're fat, and your teeth are crooked. " He told her, and Pete, who hated any man who mistreated a woman like that, said, "Hey, arsehole. Leave her alone." He gave Isabella a warm smile.

The business man eyed Pete with a creepy, unnerving look on his face, and then quite suddenly, he had everyone gasping in shock as he placed his hands on Pete's waist, his fingers flexing.

"You are even prettier than she is, babe," the man said, leering at him.

"Get your bloody hands off of me" Pete snarled, all signs of his earlier cheerfulness gone. Richard just tutted at him, and said, "A gorgeous woman like you should be making love to me. I always get the girl I want," and a cold shiver ran down Pete's back. He started to struggle to get free from the man's grip, but only received a slap.

"I am a man, you bastard," he said and slapped Richard, before yelping in shock as a hand slid past the band of his sheer pants and gripped his cock.

"What the fuck?! Let me go!" Pete yelled in anger, and then a fight began in earnest. Richard was a lot stronger than Pete, and every time Pete struggled to get free, which was all the time, he would get slapped, punched, or bit with one hand while the other remained on his cock, and he was sure that if he didn't free himself soon, he would cum.

Finally, after Richard looked quite close to killing Pete by strangling him with a belt looped around his neck, Regan picked up the water jug on their table, and struck Richard on the back with it. He went down with a cry of pain, while Pete gasped out for breath as he struggled to loosen the belt, and finally managed to get it off.

"You alright, mate?" Asked Regan, as he watched his friend gingerly rub his neck.

"Fine, but I think we should call the police," Pete rasped out just as the others noticed that Richard and his wife had already left.

"That was horrible," muttered Regan.

"You're telling me. What an utter arsehole he was," Pete scowled, accepting a glass of water from a passing waitress. "That poor girl shouldn't be with a right and utter c," he began, but Regan quickly covered his mouth with his right hand.

"Careful. There are children in here, and they don't need to hear that word. Anyway, you're wrong. He's neither got the depth or warmth of one." He said, and Pete had to laugh when he worked out what his friend meant.

"Heh, that's a good one," he laughed. "Come on. I'm going to go back to the hotel and ring the police to report that shit." So, with their bill paid for by the extremely generous staff as a way to apologise for what had just happened, Pete and Regan left a generous tip, and headed back.

 **PAGE** **BREAK**

The warm summer evening air hit the two of them as they made the fifteen minute walk back to the hotel, and for the first time, Regan took in the injuries that Pete had obtained. His left eye was a nasty shade of blackish blue, his bottom lip had a split, and there was a foreign object beneath the eye that sparkled an odd shade of green.

"Hold still a moment," he said, and managed to remove the object from Pete's eyelid. It turned out be a green contact lens.

"Huh, must have been dislodged. How's the rest of my face, then?"

"Bruised, mostly, and your nose is bleeding a little. Not much else, apart from where he strangled you," said Regan, as a little way ahead of them, emergency vehicles went screaming past.

They didn't take much notice, sure that it had nothing to do them. So, as they came nearer, they just sauntered past, at least until they saw the same man who had fought Pete. His face was bruised, as they had expected, but the blood gushing out of his neck was shocking to say the least.

The two looked at each other and then came to the sensible decision to get the hell away from there. As they walked quickly, though, neither of them saw the sudden dip in the sidewalk until Pete crashed right into the pavement, and then let out a scream unlike anything Regan had ever heard. When he looked down, he gasped, because imbedded in the palm of the singer's left hand was an intricately carved knife.

Thick red blood was slowly dripping down Pete's arm, and he was getting paler every minute. Taking charge, Regan all but dragged him the last few hundred meters to the hotel, and screamed out for help the very nano-second they walked in. And everything else after that happened in a blur that it seemed to take no time at all before the deep gash was taken care of, the knife lay on the table still covered in blood, and Pete couldn't feel a thing due to the strong local anesthetic that was running through his veins at that very moment. Fortunately, while the slice in his palm was deep enough to require stitches, he hadn't lost enough blood to require a transfusion.

He was soon let go and he and Regan made their way upstairs in the elevator, joined by a few other guests on their way to the spa and observation deck at the top. The two got out on the eighth floor, and made their way to their own respective apartments.

Before heading in, Pete knocked on the door in order to give the others a fair warning of what they were about to see.

"It's me, and I am seriously bruised," he called out, before walking in. He had scarcely got his entire body into the room when his vision was suddenly obscured by a messy mass of red, and a pair of arms wrapped around his middle. He winced slightly, feeling the tell-tale sign of bruising on his back.

"Thank goodness that you're back, love. I've been wanting to talk to you all day," Steve mumbled into his neck, lightly peppering Pete's neck with small, but loving, kisses.

Pete smiled. He absolutely adored Steve, and despite the nature of how they had met, he was happy to have found such a lovely, loving man to call his own. Steve, he knew, felt exactly the same way, as he had said on numerous occasions that usually involved the two of them having sex.

Steve had finally let go, pulled back, and upon seeing the vast amount of bruising all over Pete's face, let out a shriek, saying, "What the fuck happened to you!?"

Pete told him what had happened, and Steve gave him a half smile. "While I hate that you were injured, I applaud you for sticking up for his wife, " he said and then added, "I need to ask you something very important, by the way."

Pete smiled, wincing again as he felt his split lip stretch. "You may ask me anything you want, but first, I need to," he was cut short by the hotel room's phone letting out a rather horrible ring.

"Well, _that's_ vile," Mike said from behind the other two, as Steve lifted up the receiver first.

"Indeed," Pete agreed, as Steve put the phone back in its cradle. "They want all guests in the lobby. There's something going on, and the police are on their way."

As they made their way to the lobby, Pete and Mike took one full elevator, meaning Steve and Tim had to wait for the next one. Steve was hoping that Regan would be waiting with them, so that he might ask him what he did, and put his mind at ease, but it was not to be.

In the lobby, disgruntled and confused guests stood around, wondering just what was going on. A little girl of around maybe three in a cute green nightdress and with her auburn hair curls pulled back in a single plait, rubbed her blue eyes sleepily. Pete glanced down and gave her a little smile, which she returned, before covering her ears as a wailing siren rang through the air.

Within seconds, five police officers had stormed the lobby, and explained the situation. It turned out that the man who had attacked Pete and vice versa, had been murdered with the same knife that had ended up in the palm of his hand. Unfortunately for Pete, though, only his finger prints were found on the murder weapon, and most of the finger prints found on the man's body were also his.

"This is absolutely ridiculous!" Pete snapped as two officers cuffed him from behind, and another two arrested Regan, for apparently being his accomplice. "I hit him because he touched me inappropriately, and later, I fell on that knife when I failed to notice it. I certainly didn't kill anyone, now let us go."

"A likely story," one officer sneered at him. "You better praying that other evidence shows up between now and next Wednesday, because if not, you die."

"WHAT!?" Came the voices of several others, none of them American.

"In this country, if you break the law, you are punished as a citizen. The manner of killing someone in this state like this means a one week stay on death row, followed by an execution." The officer explained, just as Steve, Mike, and Tim ran up.

While Mike and Tim were pleading with the police to let both Pete and Regan go, it was the words that Steve uttered that shocked them.

"I hope the both of you c," he began, before noticing there were children. "Completely horrible bastards rot in hell." He had lowered his voice when he called them that, and Pete just stared at him in shock as he and Regan were dragged out of the hotel .

**AN: So, the plot thickens.**


	4. Chapter 4

Oh, What A Night

**AN: Hey. So, Pete and Regan have been arrested for a murder they say they aren't responsible for. Here's the next chapter, and I highly recommend watching The Green Mile. Yes, things will be different, and some things will be back to front, but seeing it will help you get a grasp on things. Also, there will be spoilers for said movie. I think the only trigger might be that there are racialistic slurs.**

_Previously:_

_While Mike and Tim were pleading with the police to let both Pete and Regan go, it was the words that Steve uttered that shocked them._

_"I hope the both of you c," he began, before noticing there were children. "Completely horrible bastards rot in hell." He had lowered his voice when he called them that, and Pete just stared at him in shock as he and Regan were dragged out of the hotel_.

As they were shoved towards a waiting cruiser, both Regan and Pete were silent, both of them lost in their own thoughts. Regan was thinking about his family, friends, and the wonderful career he'd had. He thought of the others hearing about all of this, and their reactions. Pete, on the other hand, was hearing the words that Steve had all but spat like a broken record with no chance of spinning round.

 _'Why would he think that I am capable of murder, or even stupid enough to throw away my career, which I love? Not nearly as much as I love him, though,_ ' he thought, as he became aware of sudden pressure on the top of his head.

"Listen, buddy. You need to duck," said a police officer who sounded slightly exasperated. Obviously, he'd probably said that a few times already. Pete blinked, and shook himself out of his thoughts.

"Oh, sorry," he muttered, ducking his head, and slid in next to Regan, before attempting to return back to his thoughts. He didn't get very far before the sound of humming reached his ears, however, and he raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him.

" _ **Asia**_ , really Regan?" He asked. Regan just gave him a small smile.

"Yeah. You know that your bands drummer absolutely loves and adores you, man. He probably told us to rot in Hell **In the heat of the moment**. Give him a chance to cool off, and he'll see how ridiculous it is to even entertain the thought of you being a murderer," he said lightly in an effort to try to make Pete feel less bad about the situation.

"He'll have a week," said one officer who had been listening to their conversation.

"Sorry?" Pete asked.

"I know you heard me," the officer said snidely, turning around in order to sneer at him. Pete couldn't help but sneer back. The officer in question had a face that made him look like an extremely large and ugly rat. He had mousey brown hair, watery green eyes, a misshapen nose, and stuck out teeth that protruded out over pale pink lips.

"My word. You are one extremely ugly man," Pete insulted him, and Regan's jaw dropped. If it were possible, he would have elbowed him in the ribs.

Meanwhile, the officer driving was shaking with silent, unprofessional laughter. Here was a man who wasn't afraid to say what he thought.

"It's very refreshing to hear people say exactly what they think, mate. However, you might want to tone it down, because he's the second nephew of our governor of state, and can make the rest of your life a living hell," he said. "As for getting visitors on Death Row, I'm sorry, but they can only visit on the morning of your death."

"What? But that's absurd!" Pete exclaimed.

"It is, but also true," said Officer Ugly, as Pete had started to call him in his mind.

The rest of the drive to the Police Station was passed in silence, as neither Regan nor Pete felt like saying much. When they finally arrived, both men eyed a large, mottled grey building with the American flag fluttering high above in a light breeze.

Once inside, they were immediately separated from each other, as the police wanted to question both men separately. However, Pete and Regan told them the exact same story with no change in even the smallest of details, and even though Pete confessed to leaving the 'Horrid Arsehole' bruised and why, there was a complete lack of murder in their story.

Some of the more sensible officers were keen on letting them go, and not even charging Pete for fighting in self defence, but others were adamant, and all for charging them both with murder.

"Honestly, Regan. The judiciary system in America is bloody ridiculous," Pete said savagely sometime later after both found themselves wearing bright orange prison uniforms, and shoved into a cell together.

"You can say that again," Regan muttered, trying to get comfortable on one of the hard and lumpy beds, just as another man was pushed into their cell. Regan looked up, and his brown eyes widened slightly.

While he was no stranger to being around tall people, being 1.71 m, Pete being 1.73, and even Steve, who stood at 1.85m, this guy was standing at around 1.93m. He was enormous, and black, but that didn't bother him at all.

"Get in there, ya filthy Negro!" The officer snapped at him, and shoved him in roughly. Pete and Regan eyed the officer in disgust. It was the same one that who had the unpleasant face, and it became apparent that he was clearly racist as well.

Once he'd left, their companion just sighed. "I couldn't help it. I tried to take it back. But it was too late," they heard him say, just as they heard shouting from not too far away.

"Let him go! My husband is innocent. Is this entire state filled with people who are racist towards black people !?" An angry, feminine voice shouted.

"Madam, please calm yourself," came another females voice that sounded oddly familiar to both Regan and Pete. A tall brunette haired woman clapped her emerald green eyes on the cell that the three of them were in, and started crying.

"John! I love you, my sweet giant," she cried out, tears spilling from her eyes. Her husband gave a little smile, before gently taking her hands.

"And I love you, Abigail. Tell Rosa I be fine. Don't frighten her none," he said, as he held her.

 **PAGE** **BREAK**

The night passed on, but none of the three men in the cell slept easily that night. John found it difficult because he was in a strange place, and the other two couldn't sleep because they were apprehensive about the following day. Also, they couldn't help but wonder what John meant by his words to them.

The morning dawned into a lovely sunny August day, and they were rudely shaken awake by an officer who looked like the nasty one from the night before, but with very different features.

"Ah, good morning, Percy," said the other.

"Good morning, my brother Michael. So, these are the prisoners we be takin' to Death Row?" He asked, and Michael nodded.

"Alright, step forward you Nigga," Percy said snidely, and Pete knew right away that this officer was also a racist. He'd always thought of police officers usually being firm, yet kind, people, but these shits were anything but.

"He's a bloody human being, and the colour of his skin is no reason to be utterly vulgar to him," he said, folding his arms in front of his chest. Michael and Percy eyed him with a look of what could only be described as cold glee.

"Watch it, or I'll push your DOE forward," Percy warned him.

"My what?" He asked.

"Date of Execution, mate," Regan said, as Percy waved four other officers towards him.

"Right. So the black guy will be escorted out by me and Officer Howell, Mr. Blackburn will be escorted out by Michael and Officer Stanton, and Mr. Burns will escorted out by Officers Terwilliger and Corlett," said Percy, and Pete raised an eyebrow at the sound of the familiar name as a female officer stepped towards him.

He couldn't believe his eyes as she made a move towards him. He had thought that she'd have been a hairdresser or something, because she was interested in that profession at the age of eighteen. Lynne had been his closest friend in school, but she'd moved to America and become a police officer, which he seriously didn't know.

"Lynne?" He asked in surprise, and her head snapped up. "That's Officer Cor," she began, before realising just who she was looking at. Her old school friend who she'd lost contact with. She was about to smile when she remembered where both of them were, so she let her voice rage instead.

"PETER JOZZEPPI BURNS! Who the fuck did you kill to get yourself on Death Row!?" She roared at him, and he quelled from her look.

"No one. I'm innocent and so is he," he said once he'd recovered. Not unsurprisingly, Lynne just rolled her eyes, muttered, "Sure you're innocent," and then pulled him out of the cell.

**AN: Thought it was a good place as any to stop.**


	5. Day One Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pete, Regan, and John arrive in prison and meet the other officers. Also, Officer Lynne Corlett clearly has a problem.

* * *

Day One Part One

**AN: So, a word of warning. The events in this story are going to be moving faster than the events in the movie. The reason being because of the time limit I gave myself, but hope you still enjoy it. Also, I don't think there are any triggers, but if you see one, let me know. Enjoy the chapter :D**

Thursday, 3rd August, Louisiana, USA, 2000

Of course, if one has the character of being sarcastic when the situation calls for it, then it would be used.

As the prisoner wagons arrived in the yard ofthe last place Pete, Regan, and John were to ever see, Percy thought it would be a great idea to suddenly yell out, "Dead Men Walking! We've got dead men walking here!"

Pete just raised an eyebrow as Lynne practically shoved him roughly towards E Block, but it wasn't her that made him do it. 

" I thought we were staying for a week," he said in mock confusion, and she narrowed her brown eyes at him.

"What?" She asked, her eyes still narrowed.

" Well, him screaming about "Dead Men Walking" is wrong on two counts. Firstly, it is extremely rude and disrespectful, and secondly , unless you are taking us to our execution right now, then it's wrong anyway," he explained. 

Lynne just scowled. " Well, he doesn't care, and we can't tell either him or my husband Michael off. Both are the nephews of the Governor of State's wife, and we can lose our jobs if we made a fuss," she said coolly. 

" You married him?" He asked, astounded, but she just ignored him, still shoving him towards the cells over Percy's yells of "Dead Men Walking!"

 _Can someone please tell him to shut the fuck up?_ Pete thought, already thoroughly pissed off about the whole situation in general. It was unfair that all of this was happening to him and Regan. 

Thankfully, his thoughts were answered as the three of them were escorted past two cells that were already occupied; one with a Native American man and the other with a man who looked Cajun.

"We've got dead men walking here," Percy said loudly, and an officer who looked like Tom Hanks snapped, "Enough!"

"Thank you. I'd just about had enough of him," said Regan, just as Pete was about to say the exact same thing and smiled a little. 

"Well, you three are clearly under a lot of stress at the moment, and we don't need to exacerbate it, " the officer said coolly, just as Percy gave a noise of disgust. 

Completely ignoring him, Officer Edgecomb, as he introduced himself, turned to the three newest inmates and asked if he was going to have any trouble with them.

While Pete and Regan shook their heads in unison, John neither said nor did anything. 

"Can you talk?" Edgecomb asked him, and Pete's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. 

"Yes sir, boss, I can talk," John answered him, just as Lynne pulled Pete towards an empty cell, unlocked the barred door, and firmly pushed him in.

"You going to give me any trouble, Mr. Burns?" She asked coldly, and he shook his head.

"Of course not, Lynne," he said politely, but she shot him a very filthy look.

"Unless I say otherwise, it's Officer Corett to you, and I don't care if we were friends once long ago," she snapped as she positioned herself behind him and unlocked the cuffs around his wrists. As she did so, her long fingers made contact with the stab wound in his left hand, and he hissed in pain.

"What happened to it?" She asked, and her tone of voice surprised him. It was soft, gentle, and caring, much like the Lynne he had gone to school with.

"I landed on a sharp blade," he said, and she scoffed. 

" Sure, pull the other one. Richard Davis was a good man and he didn't get into fights with people. You stabbed that knife in his neck, didn't you? " She argued.

" Now, hang on a moment," he began to argue back, but he was cut off by the sudden and rather horrid sound of bones breaking, followed by a Cajun accent crying out, "You bust my fingers, you _connard! "_ (Translations at the bottom of the chapter.)

Pete glanced over towards the Cajun man's cell, saw him nursing three fingers, and Percy standing close by, twirling his baton.

 _Connard indeed,_ he thought to himself, as Officer Edgecomb ordered Percy to get "the hell off of his block."

With a call of, "Well, I wiped that grin off your shit-poked face, didn't I?" Percy whistled to himself as he headed on his way, and the Native American man glared at him as he passed.

Edgecomb glanced at the suffering Cajun man and said in a calm, yet strict, tone, "You'll get that hand looked at, Del. Just stay quiet for a bit longer."

As he said this, Pete had to back up a bit in order to make room for Regan as Michael pushed him in.

" Joining me?" He asked quietly, and Regan nodded, as Edgecomb uncuffed John Coffey, before looking at the man's notes.

" So, your name is John Coffey?" He asked politely enough.

"Yes, Sir. Like the drink, only not spelt quite the same," John answered. His voice was deep, but had a tone of gentleness underneath.

Pete hmmed in thought, wondering what this man had done to be facing death. He certainly had the physique to take them all on, but he lacked the character of doing so.

 _Poor guy was probably just in the wrong place at the wrong time,_ he thought to himself as John asked if they kept the lights on after bedtime, because he got a little scared of the dark if he was in a strange place without his wife.

Distinctly uneasy, Paul assured him that the mile usually stayed pretty bright at night, and that they kept a few lights bright in the corridor.

When he left John after shaking his hand, the other officer who had escorted Pete stepped forward and locked the cell.

" I couldn't help it, boss. I tried to take it back, but it was too late," the big man said sadly, as he sat down on his bench.

**PAGE BREAK**

It was a rather dull rest of the morning, as Pete and Regan sat looking thoroughly bored. However, it became a little more interesting when the Native American man introduced himself as Arlen Bitterbuck, and then said he was there for killing a man in a bar fight. 

As Pete shuddered at the memories of the night before, Regan asked, "What exactly was the cause of the altercation between the two of you?"

With a grim smile, Arlen said, "A rather nice pair of boots. I ride the lightning express tonight. " 

"That's a creative term," Pete muttered. " What happened with you _, mon camarade prisonnier? "_

Del looked at him. _" Votre Francais n'est pas mauvais, mais je vais vous le dire en Anglais."_

Pete smiled a little at the compliment, and Del said that he was there for murdering his own family. 

Officer Corett overheard the conversation between the four men and scowled, before she stepped towards them and glared at Pete. 

" These men have suffered enough already, and you're hardly making things any easier for them, " she snapped and he just sighed.

" Whatever happened to the girl I used to know? My closest friend who was going to be a hairdresser," he asked her, his eyes meeting hers.

" Things change in fifteen years," she said, just as Regan suddenly exclaimed , "Arlen, what the fuck happened to your nose!?"

Everyone spun around, (not quite like a record, baby) and looked. Now in the right light, the other four could see that Arlen's nose was a horrendous shade of blueish-purple, and it was either dislocated or broken. 

"Nothing," he responded, but he wouldn't meet Officer Corlett's gaze as he said it.

" Oh, Arlen. I'm so sorry," she said, her brown eyes filling with tears, thoroughly confusing Pete and Regan. After a few moments, however, she regained herself, and glanced over at Regan. 

" I know you from somewhere, don't I?" She asked curiously.

Regan smiled and nodded his head. " Yeah. We were close in school and I used to call you 'Lynnie. '"

" Well, well. Regan Blackburn, " she said, but didn't get the chance to say anything else as there came the sounds of high-pitched shrieking coming from further up.

"You lot stay there," she ordered as she ran up the mile.

**AN: Hope this was an enjoyable read. Here's the translations of the French :**

**1) _Connard- Shit head_**

**_2) Mon camarade prisonnier- my fellow prisoner_ **

**_3) Votre Francais n'est pas mauvais, mais je vais vous le dire en Anglais - Your French isn't bad, but I will tell you in English._ **


End file.
